


Peach

by hannahberrie



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie's thighs appreciation post, Established Relationship, Just a couple of boys being boys!, Kissing, M/M, Mario Kart, Richie is whipped!, Sleepovers, They fight because they love each other ok, Who say 'fuck' a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahberrie/pseuds/hannahberrie
Summary: They’ve been playing Mario Kart ever since Richie got a Wii for Christmas when they were in elementary school. Now they’re seniors in high school and not much has changed. They still have sleepovers on Saturday nights, they still play the same video game, and they still break out into the same fights over it.Or: Richie and Eddie call each other names and also love each other a lot.





	Peach

In the basement of the Tozier residence, Richie is nearly breaking out into a sweat. His fingers grip the controller tighter as his eyes narrow with focus.

 

“You’re _so_ dead, Eds,” Richie mutters as he drives through a glowing item box.

 

“Sure,” Eddie snorts dismissively, eyes glued straight ahead.

 

It’s Saturday night and he and Eddie are sitting on the floor in front of the TV. Surrounding them are sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, an empty pizza box, and plastic bowls that now only harbor a few stray kernels of popcorn. They’re both sitting crossed-legged and both wearing t-shirts; though while Richie’s paired his with his boxers, Eddie’s wearing pajama shorts. As they focus on the screen in front of them, their knees brush together.

 

If Richie wasn’t so focused on winning, he’d probably be paying a hell of a lot more attention to the knee thing. Also the whole Eddie-wearing-what-should-be-illegally-short-pajama-shorts thing.

 

But there’s no time for that right now. He’s in 2nd place and honing in on Eddie, who’s looking way too smug for someone that’s about to get his ass kicked. Because that’s definitely what’s going to happen here; there’s no fucking way Richie’s gonna lose to _Peach_.

 

It’s the final lap of not only the race, but the entire cup. The only sounds to be heard are the electronic roar of car engines and the frantic tapping of the boys’ fingers.

 

Eddie’s rounding the last corner. The black and white checkered finish line is in his sight.

 

This is Richie’s last chance.

 

He aims his shot, presses down on the trigger, and —

 

Red-shells _the shit_ out of Eddie. As Peach tumbles into the air, Bowser zips past her and crosses the finish line, claiming the win.

 

“Fuck yeah!” Richie cheers. He drops the controller and jumps to his feet, throwing his hands up in victory, “And that’s how it’s done!”

 

_“Fuck you_!” Eddie exclaims as he looks up at Richie. He seems torn between being miserable and being angry. Consequently, he’s donning the signature Eddie Kaspbrak pout that’s a perfect combination of both.

 

Richie only continues to croon as the highlight reel recapping his win plays onscreen. “Did you see that shit? I fucking _annihilated_ you!” He beams, pointing to the TV. He then dances on the spot, not caring that he’s stepping on his sleeping bag or kernels of popcorn. The win is just that satisfying.

 

Eddie isn’t as impressed, evidently.

 

As Richie continues to dance, Eddie lunges for one of his legs, tripping him. With a yelp, Richie falls to the floor, landing on their makeshift heap of sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets. It doesn’t hurt that much, but Richie still gives off an exaggerated whine of pain. “I’ve been hit!”

 

Seconds later, Eddie’s straddling his chest and punching him lightly, fists colliding with whatever part of Richie he can reach.

 

“You fucking cheated!” Eddie exclaims as he playfully jabs at Richie’s ribs.

 

“Cheating?” Richie scoffs, squirming from Eddie’s touches, “It’s called _strategy_ , my love.”

 

“Well, I still hate you,” Eddie huffs. The punches stop, but the Kaspbrak pout persists.

 

Richie gives Eddie his own exaggerated pout in return. “But I’m so adorable! How could you hate this, Eds?”

 

“Easily.”

 

“Jeezum, Eddie Bear, who knew that playing Mario Kart would make you so mean?”

 

“You of all people should know,” Eddie replies, only half-joking.

 

And he’s completely right, Richie _does_ know. They’ve been playing Mario Kart ever since Richie got a Wii for Christmas when they were in elementary school. Now they’re seniors in high school and not much has changed. They still have sleepovers on Saturday nights, they still play the same video game, and they still break out into the same fights over it. The only thing that’s changed is that Richie’s since upgraded his Wii to a Switch.

 

Okay, so that’s not entirely true. Plenty of _other_ things have changed. _And definitely for the better,_ Richie thinks with a wry smile.

 

Eddie’s still straddling his chest, so Richie takes advantage of the opportunity to place his hands over Eddie’s exposed thighs (god _bless_ these pajama shorts). As Eddie continues to rant about how un-fucking-fair that last race was, Richie marvels at the way his palms engulf so much of the toned, tan skin beneath them. He’s pretty sure he’d be perfectly content staying between Eddie’s thighs forever.

 

“Are you even listening?” Eddie frowns, flicking Richie’s nose.

 

“Totally,” Richie smirks, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s thigh.

 

Eddie jolts at the touch but doesn’t give in, unsurprisingly. “Stop that,” he says, voice hitching only slightly, “I’m mad at you.”

 

“Because of Mario Kart?”

 

“It officially destroyed our relationship, Rich. Just now.”

 

“Damn,” Richie sighs, rubbing circles into Eddie’s skin, “‘Guess Mario Kart isn’t the best first date activity, then.”

 

“It could be worse, I guess,” Eddie points out, “Remember when we tried to play Monopoly? Also, wait a second; this isn’t even a first date!”

 

“It is too!”

 

“No, it isn’t! We’ve had sleepovers before!”

 

“Yeah, but this is the first one we’ve had since we started going out, dumbfuck.”

 

Even as the words leave Richie’s mouth, it doesn’t feel entirely real. He and Eddie spent years dancing around their feelings, and he never expected them to go anywhere. Now a week’s passed since they finally made things official, and Richie’s still as lovestruck as he was the day it happened.

 

“If this is your idea of a first date,” Eddie says with a wry smile, “It’s shit.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, ducking his head closer, “So that’s why I’m gonna break up with you now.”

 

“Too bad,” Richie counters, also leaning closer, “Because _I’m_ gonna break up with _you_ first. And then I’m gonna get back together with you and take you on another first date and you’re gonna love it.”

 

“What makes you think I’d get back together with you?” Eddie asks, smiling.

 

“Because _I think you love me, like as more than a friend_ ,” Richie replies, echoing Eddie’s own words.

 

Eddie’s cheeks turn red as he crinkles up his nose in

 

(the cutest fucking way imaginable)

 

embarrassment. “Stop!” He exclaims, hitting Richie’s chest again, “Jesus, you’re never gonna let that go, huh?”

 

(’That,’ meaning: the two of them walking home on a blustery fall evening. The sun setting, leaves crunching beneath their feet, hands tucked into their pockets to keep warm. Eddie bundled in a scarf, cheeks rosy from the chill and from his hesitant declaration. Richie’s heart stopping, then his feet. Eddie’s eyes, meeting his, gaze terrified but sincere. The way Eddie felt in his arms as they exchanged their first kiss. Eddie fitting into Richie’s embrace as easily as he fitted into Richie’s entire life. Richie holding his hand as they continued their walk home, not wanting to ever let go.)

 

“Never,” Richie replies firmly.

 

Eddie bites down on his lower lip as his gaze softens. “Me neither,” he admits.

 

Richie grins. “I knew it. You totally love me.”

 

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie smiles back.

 

“Make me, Eddie.”

 

And so Eddie lowers his head once more, their lips meet, and Richie sees stars.

 

If Richie couldn’t stay between Eddie’s thighs, then he’d definitely settle for staying like this forever. He knows for a fact that heaven is the soft, insistent press of Eddie’s lips against his own. Combined with the way Eddie’s palms are splayed out against Richie’s chest and the way he’s sliding his legs back so he can lie on top of Richie, Richie’s pretty sure he’s already ascended to the afterlife.

 

As Richie nibbles down on Eddie’s lower lip, his hands wander. They smooth over Eddie’s hips before gently resting over his ass. Eddie hums into Richie’s mouth in response and curls his fingers in Richie’s hair, earning a low hum from Richie in response.

 

Things still don’t feel real. Richie keeps waking for the blare of his alarm clock to jolt him from this impossibly wonderful dream. Because this has to be a dream, right? There’s no other explanation for why he’d be here, kissing Eddie, _dating_ Eddie. He has absolutely no clue what he did to deserve this, nor if this will even last. All previous jokes aside, He can’t help but worry — as he’s lying awake at night, glasses off, the world muggy and unclear — that Eddie will grow tired of him. Maybe Eddie will be the one to wake up and realize that things are all wrong. Or maybe dating really _will_ ruin their friendship, as they both spent so many years worrying.

 

Or maybe he’s just overthinking everything. Maybe Richie should just trust the feeling in his gut, the feeling that tells him that he and Eddie are infinite, eternal. That this whole thing between them is meant to be, and all that cheesy shit.

 

They lay there for what feels like infinity — tangled in each other’s arms, still learning the feel of each other’s bodies, heartbeats racing — before Eddie pulls back for air.

 

As Eddie catches his breath, Richie allows his head to fall back against the floor, a lazy and contented grin on his lips. “Fuck, Eds,” he sighs.

 

“Not yet,” Eddie replies.

 

“Huh?” Richie smiles.

 

“We’re gonna need way more — _better_ — dates before that,” Eddie teases, cheeks flushed.

 

“Hmph. Whatever you say, _Peach_ ,” Richie grins, smacking Eddie’s ass playfully, “Though, for the record, your mom needed way less romancing before we got it on.”

 

Eddie yelps and gives him a withering glare.

 

“Now let’s makeout some more, yeah?” Richie continues, leaning back in hopefully.

 

“Nuh uh,” Eddie pulls back. He crawls off of Richie and sits up, “No fucking way.”

 

“No?” Richie pouts, also sitting up.

 

“I want a rematch!” Eddie demands, reaching for the Switch controllers. He takes one for himself, passes the other to Richie, and proceeds to make himself comfortable right on Richie’s lap.

 

“Alright, then!” Richie relaxes against Eddie and smiles broadly. “You’re on, Spagheds.”

 

As Eddie presses his back against Richie’s chest and tucks his head under Richie’s chin, Richie already knows that Eddie’s gonna win this round. There’s no way he’s going to be able to concentrate on winning with the cutest guy on the planet sitting on his lap.

 

And yet, even knowing this, Richie can’t bring himself to mind one bit. His arms wrap around Eddie. He grips his own controller. And the game begins again.

 


End file.
